- Hey, Helga, you in there? It's your little friend Alfred on the phone!
- Arnold? Calling me? At my house?
- Yeah, Arnold. Whatever. Anyway, he's on the phone for you!
- Oh, Arnold! So kind, so just, so moral! (is twirling around while the telephone cord is wrapping around her)
- You couldn't help but return to the ways I know and love. (she sighs and falls to the floor with a loud thump, Big Bob hears the fall from downstairs)
- Helga?? Are you there??
- (Helga is on the floor wrapped in her telephone cord)
- Yeah, yeah! An agreement sounds great. Have my people call your people and we'll draw up the papers! Yeah, in your dreams, football head! Like I'm ever going to agree with you about anything! And don't ever call me at my house ever again!!! EVER!!! (sighs and Big Bob opens her bedroom door and looks down to her confused, Helga looks up at him and laughs sheepishly)
- I'm not even gonna ask... (leaves her room)
- (looking through a photo album) Heh Heh Heh, there’s Gertie rolling me in honey and staking me on top of an ant hill. (Arnold is seen walking up the stairs) That mischievous, pigtailed little imp. Oh mercy.
- Hey Grandpa.
- Why, if it isn’t young Arnold home from his day at school. How come you’re all covered in paint?
- Helga poured it on me. So I poured some on her.
- (Stands up) What! Oh my word, you’ve snapped Arnold! You’ve turned into some kind of vicious, paint-pouring thug. (Arnold rolls eyes) I don’t know what to think about you any more. Why didn’t you follow your instincts like I told you?
- I did Grandpa.
- I wasn't talking about those instincts. I meant your good ones.